Drabbles of the Song Inspired Kind
by MurderousPen
Summary: A collection of song-inspired Sanctuary drabbles and stories.
1. Artist vs Poet

**Right! Erm, so I'm guessing this is the ultra-awkward introductory bit, right? **

**Yeah, I'm not got at these. Just bear with me, alright?**

**Hello! Well, if you've clicked on this, you're either (1) mildly interested in this, or (2) you're rubbish with a mouse. If I'm honest, I hope you're the person in the first category. Well, as the title states, this is a collection of my random Sanctuary drabbles, namely the song-inspired ones. So…That's about it, I guess!**

**I don't own any Sanctuary, the characters from Sanctuary, or any songs that may be mentioned in this fic. **

**Enjoy!**

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><p>"<em>And now we're inches away, but we're miles apart." - Miserably Loving You, Artist vs. Poet<em>

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><p>So close. He was so <em>close<em> to her! She was merely inches away from him, her blue eyes roving over the pages of an old journal. He could - he _should - _kiss her senseless while he had the "upper-hand". Honestly, it wasn't as if she weren't begging for it already, if not by her words, by the way she dressed!

A black jacket that clung to her every curve, coupled with a blue shirt that was just peeping out the top, exposing a rather nice patch of pale skin to his hungry gaze. A plain black skirt that hit just above the knees. Those black stockings that hugged her long legs until they hit her ankle and were hidden by a lovely pair of black high heels. Brunette hair hanging down around her shoulders, elegantly curled yet not overdone. A light sheen of gloss coating her lips.

Oh, how he would love to unpin her hair and tangle his fingers in it as he thoroughly plundered her mouth! How he would love to smear that carefully applied lip gloss! How he would delight in the flush that would rise to her cheeks as he touched her, caressed her, _cherished_ her. What wouldn't he give for such a moment?

"Nikola?" Her voice snapped him from his fantasy.

It was time. If he were to do anything, it would have to be now, while she was looking at him, her blues eyes locked in his grey. Her head was tilted at just the right angle; if he just leaned over a bit…

No. Something was wrong. It didn't feel right - _nothing_ felt right. Everything should be perfect, though! After all, he was _so close!_

Yet…he wasn't. It was as if he were inexplicably far away from her, instead of the few inches which separated them. It couldn't be! He was close to her! He could see her staring -

Ah. He understood completely now.

They were not close. No, far from it. Nikola Tesla and Helen Magnus were as far away as two people could possibly get; after all, he was desperately in love, whilst she was still pining for the man who had first won her heart.

"Nikola, are you alright?" She asked, her tone holding something strange in it.

"Fine, Helen. Perfectly fine."

He wasn't.

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><p><strong>Review and let me know how awful it was? <strong>


	2. Machine Head

**As promised, here's the requisite fluffy Teslen piece. I owe it to you all, after writing many Teslen angst fics. XD**

**Once again, I own nothing. (:**

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><p>"<em>Time to fight our own denial." - Clenching the Fists of Dissent, Machine Head<em>

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><p>He had denied himself so many things in the past century, and nearly all of them involved <em>her.<em> He denied himself the privilege of kissing her. He denied himself the privilege of holding her. He denied himself the privilege of loving her. Most of all, he denied himself the privilege of her presence. It would've been all too easy for him to stay with her at the Sanctuary after his "death". It would've been so simple to stay with her, and woo her within the confines of her own home! However, he denied himself the privilege, knowing he would never be able to do so properly. He knew he would mess it up somehow, and ruin any chances he might've had.

Contrariwise, she had also been denying so many things over the years. She denied that she cared for him as anything more than a friend. She denied the fact that her presence made her feel comfortable, warm, and safe. She denied the fact that she was forced to fight the urge to kiss him on more than one occasion. She denied the fact that she loved the incorrigible Serb.

Now, as they stood under the doorframe, staring each other down, they were both fighting their denial.

It was incredibly hard for him to lean down and gently cover her lips with his; something he had dreamed about for so many years. Yes, it was incredible; a feeling of long-awaited gratification as he finally kissed the woman he loved. However, there was also a sense of dread and fear; fear that she would reject him, scorn him for thinking it was anything more than requisite.

On the other hand, it was nigh impossible for her to stay still while his lips softly caressed hers. Oh, how she longed to return the contact! How she would love to kiss him as thoroughly as she could! Yet what if he didn't want her? What if this was merely something they had been forced into? What if he didn't return her feelings? However, as the pressure on her lips was increased slightly, she found her inhibitions melting away and she finally kissed him back.

Their lips moved in syncopation and a soft noise issued from the back of her throat as his tongue begged entrance. She complied, and their tongues duelled, both fighting to gain control and neither one wanting to relinquish that power. They were both content to stay like that for the rest of the night, however the need to breathe made itself apparent, and she was forced to pull away from his embrace.

He stared at her, grey eyes concerned. Had he taken things to far? Had he overstepped some unknown boundary, and now she wished to get away from him? He waited with bated breath as she regained her composure. Suddenly, a small smile graced her features and she wound her arms around his neck, pulling his mouth back to hers. He snaked his arms around her waist, and if his mouth wasn't otherwise occupied, he would've laughed with pure relief.

A satisfied grunt broke the silence, though Nikola and Helen were far too occupied with one another to notice. As Biggie took in their entwined forms, he couldn't help but smile at his keen placement of mistletoe.

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><p><strong>A little Christmas fic for you all, even though it's still November. ^_^ <strong>

**Review and make me happy? **


	3. Barry McGuire

**Something I had to write, since I saw the new Sanctuary episode online. ^_^ Of course, the ending scene was something fluff writers and angst writers alike could find inspiration from, and I did too. :D So, enjoy! **

***There are no real spoilers in this, so if you haven't seen the episode, don't worry. ^_^**

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><p>"<em>I can't twist the truth; it knows no regulation." - Eve of Destruction, Barry McGuire<em>

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><p>"You really have to ask?" A small smile flirted about the corners of her mouth, yet there was something in her eyes that made him want to shiver.<p>

_Yes_, he thought, _I really do have to ask._ After all, he was certain he had seen a brief flicker of indecision in her eyes; of course, with a choice like that, it was obvious it would be difficult. However, he realized if it was a _real_ choice, in a _real_ situation, he had no idea who she would choose.

On one hand, there was Huggybear; the perfect protégée. Grudgingly, he admitted that Huggybear was efficient, and never hesitated in helping Helen, even if she didn't need his assistance. He was younger, there was no question about that; also, he was in contact with her on a daily basis. In fact, he didn't even want to consider how much they were in each other's presence, even if it was only a working relationship. Things could change quickly, after all; he was a perfect example of that.

On the other hand, there was himself: Nikola Tesla. Sarcastic, pessimistic, arrogant, narcissistic vampire who may or may not have tried to kill Helen at one point in time. Obviously, he loved her very much; unfortunately, an unrequited love, but one couldn't as for everything. Still, he wasn't exactly the best friend; after all, he was barely around and when he was, he was normally being blamed (justly or unjustly) for something cataclysmic.

Naturally, if one was aiming for who was the better choice, it would more than likely be Will, which would've left Nikola out in the cold; or worse, being controlled by the Little Leprechaun. Still, he was her oldest friend! Didn't that count for something?

Some days, he wasn't sure.

So yes, of course he had to ask. Though her response seemed to gravitate towards the "of course I would've saved you", he had to look into her eyes, just to make sure.

And, with his customary smirk plastered on his face, he really wished he wouldn't have looked; after all, even the great Helen Magnus can't twist the truth.

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><p><strong>Eh, not as angst-y as I would've liked, but oh well! Review and make me happy?<strong>


	4. ALW

**Another little drabble that just popped into my head and irritated me until I wrote it out. Funny, how the nagging little voice in my mind sounds suspiciously like Nikola…**

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><p>"<em>Floating, falling; sweet intoxication." - Music of the Night, Andrew Lloyd Webber.<em>

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><p><em>Exquisite<em>. The taste was richer and sweeter than any wine he'd ever had the pleasure of consuming. That, coupled with the heady scent that he had no name for as of yet, made his head spin. He was floating far above the ground, even as he spiralled down, falling deeper into his addiction.

_Intoxicating. _He had been unaffected by all inebriating substances for quite some time, but now, he was as intoxicated as a common drunkard. His mind was pulling him towards thousands of different sensations - so many different tastes that he would love to explore, so many different touches that provoked different reaction, _so many things!_ - yet he was far too sluggish to follow, and contented himself with his current position and the feelings which came with it.

_Air._ Unfortunately, something required for his continued existence.

"Oh, Helen," Nikola murmured, resting his forehead against hers as he regained his breath.

She gave a breathy laugh before pulling him back down for another kiss.

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><p><strong>Like it? Love it? Hate it? <strong>

**I'll only know if you review! ^_^**


	5. Pink Floyd

**Oh my gosh, you're all so lovely! **

**LoveActuallyFan, you literally make my day. :3 **

**Anyway, here's another little drabble that I wrote in the middle of the night last night. Since it was conceived and birthed at 2am, it's probably not that good. XD**

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><p>"<em>So you think you can tell, Heaven from Hell?" - Wish You Were Here, Pink Floyd<em>

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><p>Nikola's father had been a priest, and as such, he felt he should teach Nikola a few things while he was still young. The first thing he taught his son was the difference between Heaven and Hell.<p>

Heaven was a place of eternal bliss; infinite peace and cal awaited those when entered it's pearly gates. No more pain, sorrow, or suffering. No more sickness, no more death, and no more tears. Absolute perfection for the rest of eternity.

Hell, however, was the exact opposite. Fire and brimstone awaited those who entered it's blackened gates. Etenral pain and suffering, unending tears and great gnashing of teeth*, and misery. Infinite anguish, forever being burned by legions of flames.

The difference was blatant, even to the six-year-old. Funny how now, over a century later, the genius had quite a problem distinguishing the two.

On one hand, there was his Heaven. Her sweet smiles that caused his heart to speed up and butterflies to erupt in his stomach. Her kind words, her gentle nature, her comforting gestures. Those blue eyes which reflected her every emotion. The laugh lines which appeared when she grinned. Her genius which seemed to far outstrip his own.

On the other hand was his Hell. His sinful thoughts and lustful fantasies. His sharp tongue and narcissistic demeanour. His cold nature, his cruel retorts, his arrogance. His copious consumption of wine. His dangerous schemes, his hidden agendas. His overall arrogant behaviour.

One would think the difference was still obvious, however Nikola would beg to differ.

After all, both were directly related to _her_. His Heaven was comprised of her, and his Hell was caused by her.

However, as long as it was for forever, he was content with confusion.

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><p>*"And shall cast them into a furnace of fire: there shall be wailing and gnashing of teeth." - Matthew 13:42, KJV<p>

**Right…Bear in mind, this was written at 2am! So, do you like it? Love it? Wish I would shut up?**

**Review and let me know! ^_^**


	6. Tommie Connor

**Since it's December, I figured I'd give you all a nice little Christmas fluffy piece.**

**In this, I'm pretending Nikola was with Helen when Ashley and Henry were little, so…yeah. XD**

**Enjoy!**

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><p>"<em>I saw Mommy kissing Santa Claus underneath the mistletoe last night." - I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus, Tommie Connor<em>

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><p>"Henwy," a soft voice called his name. "Henwy, get up!"<p>

Henry let out a groan before cracking an eye open. Little five-year-old Ashley stood by his bedside, blonde hair mussed and blue eyes shining with excitement.

"Whaddya want, Ash?" The seven-year-old mumbled groggily.

"Henwy, Santa is comin'!" The girl grinned. "We can go catch 'im!"

"'S too early, Ash. Go back to bed."

"Henwy!" The child whined, tugging his shirt sleeve. "Pwease?"

Henry sighed, realizing he wouldn't be able to resist; or, he wouldn't get any more sleep if he did. "Fine. But if Santa doesn't give me my Gameboy, I'm blaming you."

The younger child just grinned, grabbing Henry's hand when he got up. As they padded down the hall towards the stairs, Ashley let out a nervous giggle."Shh," Henry warned. "Be very quiet; we're hunting Santa Claus!"

Thankfully, Ashley was able to restrain her next bout of giggles.

They carefully crept down the stairs, being wary of the ones that creaked. When they reached the second landing, they stopped. From this viewpoint, Henry was able to peer down and see into the parlour.

Leaning over the banister, he quickly scanned the hallway before glancing down to the parlour doorway.

"What is it?" Ashley asked after Henry gasped and jumped back from the rail.

"Mommy's kissing Santa Claus!" he breathed, eyes wide with shock.

This time Ashley couldn't restrain her laughter, and Henry was still too stunned to reprimand her.

Below them, Helen pulled away from the embrace.

"Nikola, did you hear something?" she queried, looking around.

The costumed man chuckled. "Nope," he murmured before gently pulling Helen's face back round and reclaiming her lips.

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><p><strong>Like it? Hate it? Want to feed me to the stuck up, inbred bitch?<strong>

**Review and let me know! (: **


	7. Mumford and Sons

**Since I wrote a fluffy one, I'm entitled to another angst-y one. Therefore, I bring you this little post-Sleepers drabble. :3**

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><p>"<em>Weep for yourself, my man; you'll never be what is in your heart." - Little Lion Man, Mumford and Sons<em>

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><p><em>Comfort<em>. Bah! The most she gave him was a good glass of wine and more than a few tempting thoughts he couldn't act upon. Comfort? More like torture.

So now he lay sprawled out across his bed, half-empty bottle of wine in hand. A few glasses in he grew tired of the tedious task of pouring and refilling, therefore he decided to go about it the simple, if not crude way of drinking straight from the bottle. He lifted the container to his lips, taking a long pull. He no longer cared about the flavour; he merely wanted to make it all stop, just for a moment. If an excess of wine would do so, he'd gladly take the hangover.

How had it come to this? How had he, the great Nikola Tesla, fallen so far? One minute, he was invincible, fighting off those _children_ as if they were no more powerful than a pestering insect. The next, he was on his knees, willing himself to transform and being unable to shift. Destroyed by his own creation…What mockery! Oh, Fate was a cruel mistress indeed!

A scowl etched itself onto his features as he recalled the sympathetic looks Helen and her ragtag group of misfits gave him. He could take biting retorts, he could take jokes, but he could not handle their bloody _sympathy_! As if they understood! As if they _could!_ As if they had any idea what had been taken from him, what he had lost! What he now lacked! As if they could understand the great weight that pressed on him, the infernal ticking of the clock telling him that his days, hours, minutes, _seconds_, were numbered! As if their tiny minds could comprehend!

Except Helen. Helen understood. She had to! After all, had she not been in a similar situation once? Immortality threatened, breaths numbered? Yes, she understood perfectly; and yet she still mocked him! She mocked him with her kind words, her small smiles. She mocked him with the short skirt she wore, the swooping neckline that exposed a good deal of her pale flesh to his hungry gaze. Her laughter, ringing in his ears. Her eyes, dazzling, sparkling in the soft light of the fire.

Oh, how she tormented him! Especially with her _actions._ The way her long fingers reached out and circled around her glass. The way her brunette curls bounced when she moved her head. The way her sinful lips moved, taking on delicious new forms as she spoke. Had she any idea how utterly _ravishing_ she was? Sometimes, he thought she did. Sometimes, he thought she knew exactly how…how _coquettish_ she was being, and was merely doing so to taunt him, tease him. That was perfectly fine - more so - back when he was immortal, back when he had all the time the world had to give him.

Now, with his lifespan considerably shortened, and unsure if his next breath was to be his last, it was most definitely, completely, explicitly _not okay._ He didn't have much time, anymore. He couldn't spend years flirting with her and decades trying to woo her. He had so little time to win her heart. Even then, he would only break it by dying; or would she feel that much for him, to be saddened?

Again, he was unsure.

All he knew was that he was running out of time -quickly- and Helen Magnus was not, nor would ever be his. No, it was simply unfeasible for him to woo her in such a short amount of time. She would never be his. He would never get to hold her, caress her, love her as she deserved to be loved. He would never be her suitor, her husband. He would never have that opportunity.

A sudden rage took hold of him, set fire to his limbs. In a quick movement that was a sad imitation of his former speed, he stood and hurled the almost-empty wine bottle against the wall, taking a sick pleasure as it shattered, and the dark red liquid ran down the walls, frighteningly reminiscent of blood.

Why? Why him? What had he done to deserve this cruelty, this horrible pain? Why were the fates conspiring against him so?

In his mind, he could see an image, so clear it seemed like he could reach out and touch it, if he so wished.

_Helen, smiling up at him as she held a squirming baby in her arms. He gently reached out and she transferred the infant from her arms to his, her smile growing wider as he cradled the babe against his chest."James Dane Tesla," she murmured, smiling at the little boy. "Our son."_

"_Our son," he echoed, voice barely a whisper, eyes swimming with tears._

"_Niko." She wrapped an arm around his waist and laid her head against his shoulder. Perfect._

NO! No! It could never be. It was not possible, even if the child _did_ have a few patches of dark curls, even if he did have wonderful cobalt eyes.

NO!

It was not real. Impossible. Helen would never marry him, and she would _surely_ never lay with him! He highly doubted she was still capable of having children anyways. Still, his heart and mind tormented him with that image of bliss, haunting him with things that could be, that _should _be, that could never be.

With a choked sob, Nikola fell to his knees, paying no heed to the small bits of glass that dug into his trouser legs, cutting into the skin beneath.

Everything, failed. His main goal, never achieved. His son, still unborn - never conceived! His love, his Helen, never wooed.

The realization crushed him, and he wept.

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><p><strong>Angst-y enough? I hope! On a side note, this is a lot longer than I intended. xD<strong>

**Did you like it? Hate it? Want to shoot me for torturing Nikola again?**

**Review and let me know! **

***hides behind electromagnetic force field***


	8. Aimee Mann

**Since LoveActuallyFan's heart might not take anymore of my angst, I shall write a fluffy one for you all. (: **

**Maria: Thank you so much! I totally agree about Nikola; no one can be like that all the time. Not even the Doctor! :D Your English is wonderful, and again, thank you so much! (:**

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><p>"<em>But can you save me?" - Save Me, Aimee Mann<em>

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><p>"I love you, Helen" Nikola whispered, his eyes locked with hers as he reached out to tenderly cup her cheek.<p>

"Nikola," she choked. What could she say? It was easy to see he cared for her; after all, he always came when she called, and he did anything - mostly- she asked him to. Not to mention the fact that he had declared his love for her before. Twice, in fact.

Still, what could she do? What could she say? She wasn't someone to easily give her heart away, despite the fact she's known him for a very, very long time. Also, her baggage would easily clog up any airport's claim. Would he want her, after that? Would he want someone who had been engaged - and pregnant- before? Would he want someone who couldn't give him a child? Most of all, could he help her when she was in dire need, not only physically, but emotionally? Could he rescue her from herself?

"But can you save me?" she whispered in return, tears brimming in her eyes.

Gently, slowly as though not to startle her, he lowered his lips to hers, capturing them in a tender, loving kiss.

She knew the answer without him having to say it.

_Yes._

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><p><strong>Fluffy? I hope! Have I made it up to Nikola? I can only wish.<strong>

**Do you want to review?**

_**Yes.**_


	9. Evanescence

**So, I've decided to be a good and go green. So, to do so, I'm going to start recycling; beginning with this fic.**

**Before I do, though, I just wanted to say thank you to everyone who read and reviewed. You have no idea how much it means to me. Seriously, I love you guys. :3**

**And on that note, here's the next chapter!**

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><p><em>Though I'd die to know you love me, I'm all alone. Isn't someone missing me? - Missing, Evanescence.<em>

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><p>Nikola Tesla didn't believe in love. In fact, he felt that love was a folly to be overlooked, a mere physical flaw that could be contained and eventually, neutralized. Nikola Tesla never believed in love - until he met one Miss Helen Magnus.<p>

It would be incredibly, irrevocably damaging to his scientific mind to say that it was love at first sight. No, he would deny that, even as he thought of the shining, golden ringlets that shrouded her pale, long neck from his seeking gaze. Even as he recalled her eyes, coloured with a blue that rivaled that of the sky. Even as he remembered the delicate flush that had risen to her cheeks when she had caught him staring - nigh upon leering - at her. Even as his vampiric mind brought these details together, causing them to mingle and merge, entertwining - much like he wished their physical bodies would - until they formed a picture in his mind's eye. Even with his nigh eidetic memory, this recollection of Helen's stunning looks seemed almost insulting.

They were both young, which seemed a strange thing to think of when they were now so old. Still, youth had once enveloped them with nurturing arms, and Nikola liked to think that Helen had fancied him a bit, even though it was most likely wishful thinking. He liked to think that, given a bit more time, Helen would have fallen for him, instead of that great blundering oaf, Druitt. It seemed, however, that after the Source Blood had changed them, Druitt had become less of an oaf, and more of a bloodthirsty monster. Ironically, even Tesla didn't have as great a bloodlust.

When John revealed himself to be the infamous Ripper, Helen had completely fallen apart, crumbling from the inside out. A strange, sick, twisted part of Nikola had wanted to take her hand, look into her eyes, and tell her that no matter what, he would always be there. Then, he had wanted to kiss her, and make her whole again. Yet what did he end up doing?

He ended up running from her. Poor, broken Helen. According to Watson, he and Griffin had ben able to piece Humpty together again, but somehow, Nikola knew that Helen would never be the same.

Unfortunately, he was right.

Now, over sixty years later, he stands in a corridor, waiting for his ljubav to join him. Eventually, she did, and he was ashamed to admit that he was careened back into adolescence as his heartbeat sped and his breathing quickened. Thankfully, he had a flair for acting. That was probably the only thing that kept him from jumping her then and there.

He asked for a kiss. It was a simple request, one that he knew would probably never be fulfilled. After all, he was her friend, and friends don't simply go about snogging one another, do they? Yet, to his utter suprise, when he tapped his cheek, she leaned fowards, lips approaching.

Nikola knew it was wrong, yet he couldn't help but turn his head to feel her silken lips on his. His knees felt weak, his heart stuttered in his chest, and he felt as if he were flying without ever leaving the ground. Especially when her hands shot up to grab him, her long fingers closing over his wiry arms. Seconds too late, he realized it was to push him away from her.

The shock must have registered on his face; he caught the breif twinkle of amusement in her eye.

Later, in the catacombs, when he told her he loved her. She had been shocked, and, to his utter horror, seemingly afraid. That's what fuelled in in him. Her almost-fear, his pain. That's what caused him to put his plan into action.

So he stalked her in the tombs, waiting for the oppurtune moment to grab her, pull her flush against him. It would take very little effort on his part to bite her. After all, it was Helen. Poor, broken Helen.

Then, he was cornering her, and she was openly afraid of him. She considered him a monster - he saw it in her eyes. He didn't care. All Nikola Tesla wanted right at that moment was Helen Magnus. Her flesh, her blood, her mind, her soul. All of her. He was determined to get it. Call it love, call it hate, call it sadistic need. He needed her. He had to get her.

She didn't want him to get her. She didn't want to give her heart to him. She hated him.

Nikola was determined, however. He would take her by force, if neccesary. It would be easy to overpower her, with his vampiric strength, and one quick bite would be all it took to change her. To make Helen Magnus his until the end of time.

Then Druitt ruined him with a fist to the abdoment. Or, through the abdomen would be more appropriate.

It hurt. It crushed him, sending him to his knees, allowing him to see the world in a perfect moment of clarity. Helen Magnus was not his, had no desire to be his, and most likely hated him. John Druitt, Jack the Ripper himself, a man known for his bloodlust and sadistic nature, had Helen Magnus all to herself. Had given her a child.

Nikola was alone once more. But it didn't matter, did it? Nothing mattered then, anyway. His ljubav was gone, and with her, his heart. How could anything matter? So he allowed himself to crumple to the floor, allowed his blood to spill over the dust. For the first time in a very, very long time, Nikola Tesla regretted being a vampire. He regretted not having the ability to die properly.

He only hoped that, once he was dead, someone out there would miss him.

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><p><strong>Well, that's it! Hope you liked it. (:<strong>


	10. Crossfade

_****_**Right! Yet again, I'm recycling a fic! I think this is my last one. (:**

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><p><em>What I really meant to say is," I'm sorry for the way I am." - Cold, Crossfade<em>

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><p>He had said it many times, many ways, but only ever to her. He had never said it to his colleagues (except her), he had never said it to his mother, and he had certainly never said it to his father. It wouldn't have been genuine if he had said it to anyone else but her. He only felt sorry for who he was when he was around her.<p>

Helen had always been so prim, proper to a fault. Whenever she had bad news, she said it with a solemn expression, then afterwards, softened the blow with a small smile and a promise that things would be better next time, things would work out soon.

Nikola had always been blunt, heartless and cold. Distant to a fault. Whenever he had grim news, he said it as it was, sneered at them, wondered why they didn't do better. Made them feel bad about themselves. He had never smiled afterwards, never promised them a bright future because who the hell knew if the future would be bright? Who even cared?

Helen cared. Nikola didn't. She loved. He hated. She smiled. He scorned. She was light. He was dark.

It was inevitable that he would fall for her. After all, wasn't it just the perfect cliché? Evil falling for good? Evil wanting to repent, turn away from its ways, do anything to win the heart of the Good one?

So he tried. He stopped sneering and starting smiling, even if just a bit. He complimented them on their high points and dismissed their low points. He tried, he really did. She even congratulated him - a small smile, an approving nod. No kisses. No proclamations of love. Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Nikola stopped trying, eventually, stepping back into the shadows. He stopped trying to be good. He stopped trying to be bad. He asked Helen to help him fake his death. She agreed. Did she want to be rid of him? Did it matter? Did he matter? Would he even be remembered?

Somehow, he found himself not caring, not wondering at anything. He skulked in bars and hid in grungy corners, cursing his vampiric lifespan, wishing he could stop existing altogether.

Eventually, he would meet Helen again. He would find that spark again, he would want to do good - he would want to save her life. He would want to win her heart. He would want to love, cherish, honour and protect her. Yet he would also want to do evil as well. Take over the world. Be cruel to his underlings. Attempt to re-create a race of unstable, violent creatures.

Eventually, he would stop worrying about right and wrong, and only worry about one thing - Helen Magnus.

Too bad she would never realize that.

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><p><strong>Again, I shall recycle, and say "<strong>**Reviews are like sitting on a couch that always puts you in compromising positions with Jonathon Young." (:**


	11. Crossfade II

_****_**And again, I'm recycling. Technically, they can go here, since they're song inspired. So...yeah. xD**

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><p><em>You are the antidote that gets me by. Something strong, like a drug that gets me high. - Cold, Crossfade.<em>

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><p>Nikola Tesla hated being open. He hated not having his little hidden agendas that kept his audience entertained. He hated people being able to read his emotions, see what he was feeling - what they thought he was feeling. He hated it when he revealed himself to anyone.<p>

So, if he hated being open with someone with such great fervour and passion, why was he standing outside Helen Magnus's chamber door, having just knocked and now not-so patiently waiting to be granted entrance? Why had he gone there with the intent of laying his feelings bare - all of them? All of the love he felt for her, the hate he felt for Druitt, his jealousy of her close relationship with James, his loathing of all those lovers she had taken instead of him. The pure anguish he had felt when she had flinched away from him in Rome, while they had been in the catacombs.

He had just proclaimed his undying - no pun intended - love for her, and as he reached out to gently cup her cheek as he had so often wished to do, she cringed away from him, staring at him with some strange mix of shock and horror dominating those normally gentle, gorgeous eyes. At least her emotions had been clear, concise after that moment. His emotions had been a mess after that, until he had finally regained the capability of rational thought. Within moments, he had reigned his confused feelings in, had compacted them, stored them away in the part of his brain that was reserved for memories such as those of Dane's death, his numerous beatings afterwards - by his father and by his schoolmates -, the death of his favourite pigeon, the deaths of the handful of friends he had accumulated through his numerous years, the haunted faces of those he had attacked in moments of bloodthirsty viciousness. Of all those memories, the memories that his nigh-eidetic mind recreated for him each night in his nightmares, the look on Helen's face, the look in her eyes, the supposed windows to the soul...That would haunt him until the end of his days - if he would ever be so lucky to have an "end of days".

Before his thoughts could turn any darker, Nikola was interrupted by the sound of Helen's voice calling "Enter!"

It had been a few years since Rome, yet Nikola couldn't deny the sudden fear that gripped his cold, vampiric heart. How could he cope with another look like the one he had received in the catacombs? How would be manage another rejection from the woman who had stolen his deadened heart?

He pushed the horrid thoughts away just as simply as he pushed through the mahogany door that led to Helen's bedroom. Ironic that he place he had always dreamed of ending up in had turned into a place he feared he would soon have nightmares of.

"Nikola!" Helen's voice drew him in, drawing his attention to the sight of her laying on her bed, dressed in sinfully delicious-looking nightclothes, a small smile playing about the corners of her lips and a teasing gleam in her eyes. "Come to seduce me then, Mr. Tesla?"

"Are you implying that I may have a chance in succeeding, Miss Magnus?" He replied just as teasingly, though a small part of him, hidden even deeper than his "nightmare compartment", secretly wished she would say yes, he did have a chance. More than a chance, really.

"Of course not, Nikola. After all, it has been a dreadfully long day - I'm really too tired to be up to such tomfoolery." Her lips twisted up into a smirk that Nikola couldn't find the strength to return in full. Naturally, he had taken her words to heart, which wouldn't have been such a bad thing had she not said "tomfoolery". Did she actually think that making love with him would be considered tomfoolery? Like it was some sort of sick joke? Like he wouldn't be pouring all of his being into her, hoping to show his feelings for her through not only his words, but his actions as well? Did she think it foolish? A waste of her all-important time?

Helen must have noticed the strange look on his face, for she once against interrupted his thoughts - something she was quite good at, if he were to be perfectly honest. "Nikola, what is it? You weren't attacked by an Abnormal, were you? Or perhaps you were affected by our new guest, the Tyreclapnadox? After all, the Tyreclapnadox is known for causing errant, irrational thoughts to enter the heads of those around them. It's a defence mechanism - a brilliant one, in fact."

Humph. Errant, irrational thoughts entering the heads of those around them? Perhaps Helen was a Tyreclapnadox in an angel's body? But now wasn't the time for thoughts such as these - he had to tell her, make her see his side. He had to win her, woo her once and for all, no interruptions. This was it. His moment. Their moment.

"Helen, I -"

"Nikola just spit it out, would you? Honestly, for a genius, you sometimes really have a serious problem with speech."

"Only when you're around."

"What? Nikola, you're not making sense. Perhaps it really was the Tyr-"

"Helen, shut up, just for a minute, eh?" Nikola instantly regretted his choice of words, but at least it had stopped her before she could go on one of her scientific rants while he was trying to tell her something important.

Drawing in a shuddering breath, he began.

"Helen, we need to talk. Not just witty banter, or flirty innuendos, we need to have a serious discussion." Seeing her open her mouth - probably to protest, though at which part he didn't know - he quickly raised both of his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Just hear me out, alright? This isn't easy for me you know, and, as you so eloquently put it, I seem to 'really have a serious problem with speech'.

"Rome. Remember Rome, Helen? When I told you I loved you and you flinched, like I was going to hurt you? Like I would kill you? Like I could do such a thing? Remember that, Helen? Remember what I said? I said that I had loved you for a very long time. And I was telling the truth, something that doesn't happen too terribly often. Well, I was being honest then, and I'm being honest now, alright? So let's just get that perfectly clear. At no point in this conversation will I lie to you. Understood? Good.

"It started a long time ago, Helen. I shudder to think of love at first sight, but something clicked when I first saw you, in that crimson dress, looking for all the world like something too surreal to exist on Earth. I tried striking up conversations with you, and eventually it worked. We became close, Helen. Not close enough, however. I still was unable to woo you - you thought me a fool, joking about like I was. But I wasn't joking, Helen - not then, and not now either. I thought I had time back then, especially after the Source Blood experiment, when we were all changed. Then, what did you do? You fell for John freaking Druitt. Jack the bloody Ripper himself! I couldn't deal with it, Helen. Years after, when John had left, the embryo frozen, and you seemingly recovered, I dared approach you as I had back before the Five. But you were broken, Helen. You weren't the woman I knew anymore - you were hollow, and empty, and frankly, it scared the hell out of me. It also made me want to rip out Druitt's throat, mutilate his body in the worst ways imaginable, and string him up in the streets. But that's not my point. I loved you even then, Helen. Even when you were Broken Helen, all cold and listless. James and Griffin couldn't bring you back, remember? But I did, Helen. I brought you back to us. I even gave you a pigeon, Helen. Remember that? Remember that pigeon?"

He waited until she nodded before continuing.

"You weren't Broken Helen anymore after that - you were you. And I still loved you, throughout all of that. Griffin stopped caring after a little while, and James was too busy solving his little cases or getting high to help you much at all. Eventually, he stopped trying too. But I never stopped, Helen! I still haven't stopped! Why can't you see that, understand that? Haven't you got it by now?"

Nikola threw up his hands in exasperation, pacing around the room, wringing his hands, trying to think of a way to explain to her what she was to him.

"James had his cocaine. He loved his seven per-cent solution, loved it so much that he gave everything else up for it - his health included. Griffin succumbed to gambling after a while. Druitt was obsessed with blood and harlots. I'm addicted to you, Helen. I pilfer your wine cellars, yes, but no one realizes that it's not the wine that I want from you, Helen. I want your love. I want your heart. I want every part of you, Helen, and I want you to give it to me. I don't want to take it from you - I will not take it from you. I will, however, use my powerfully good looks and genius mind to beg with you, plead with you. Please, Helen. Please, please love me."

He had stopped pacing, and now he stood at the end of her bed, watching her as she trembled with realization. He had been there for her, always. He had taken care of her when she couldn't take care of herself. He loved her, truly, madly, and deeply. How the hell had she not realized before? Wasn't she supposed to be a genius too?

"Nikola." The name slipped unbidden past her lips. Her voice trembled, her frame shook, and tears were beginning to form in her eyes. "NICO..." The first teardrops fell, quickly followed by more. A choked sound emanated from somewhere deep inside her.

The man in question watched with horrified eyes as he took in the now-sobbing figure of Helen Magnus. Had he broken her like John had?

In an instant, he was by her side, pulling her into his lap, holding her against his chest as she sobbed into the junction between his neck and shoulder. He pressed his lips into her dark hair, murmuring apologies, begging her forgiveness, praying for normalcy, a salvageable relationship between the two of them. He rocked her back and forth, his prior words forgotten, his mantra now, "I'm sorry, Helen. I love you, Helen. I'm sorry, Helen. I love you, Helen." As if saying her name after each declaration made her realize how truly sorry he was, how much he truly loved her.

It felt like ages before she had reigned in her self-control, but Helen finally roused herself from Nikola, sniffing once before staring into those blue-grey orbs that were gazing at her solemnly.

"I'm sorry, Helen. I shouldn't have -"

"Nikola! What on earth do you have to be sorry for?" Granted, her incense was dampened by her red-rimmed, puffy eyes, but it still held an ounce of something.

"For pouring all of this onto you. It has been a long day, I suppose. Maybe I should just -"

"No, Nikola, you shouldn't leave, you should bloody well stay here until I'm finished with you." Helen's words were intended to be taken as innuendo - some symbol that she had not been broken, but had been mended in some unmentionable way. Unfortunately, her words didn't have the affect she had hoped they would've.

His eyes had gone wide, and his teeth worried his inner lip. A brief flash of pain danced across his features, followed by impassivity, something she knew to be an act - after all, she had hidden behind that mask far too many times to be fooled by it.

She supposed he was shocked when she grabbed him by his cravat, dragged him forward, and crushed their lips together. To his credit, however, he recovered quite quickly. So quickly, in fact, that Helen quickly found Nikola begging her lips for entrance, which she granted him nigh instantly.

Their tongues duelled for what seemed like millennia, they lost themselves in each other for what seemed like centuries, and when they surfaced for air, they stared at each other for what felt like decades.

Nikola leaned down to chastely brush his lips with hers before pulling back, a smirk sidling on to his features.

"Well, if that's all I have to do for a snog from you, Helen, expect many more visits from me."

"Why don't you just stay awhile?" She suggested.

His eyebrows shot to his hairline as she pulled him down on top of her

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><p><strong>Reviews make me happy. (:<strong>


	12. Mumford and Sons II  David's Fic

**First of all, I must inform you that my lovely husband, David, wrote this fic! I'm so proud of him! :3 Secondly, it's really cold. Really, really cold. **

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><p>"<em>But if your strife strikes at your sleep, remember spring swaps snow for leaves." - Winter Winds, Mumford and Sons<em>

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><p>A sigh rose up to greet the night. A click, and the lamp flickered on, lending a soft light to her large room. The bedsprings creaked as Helen rose and wrapped a plush robe around herself. Apparently, it was to be one of <em>those<em> nights. One of the nights where her demons came to haunt her, reminding her of her losses and failures.

_Ashley. James. John. Nigel. Countless innocents. At one point, Will, Henry and Kate. For a few moments, Nikola. _

She shuddered and pulled the robe tighter around her. Would those memories ever fade? Would her wounds ever _fully_ heal? Or would they continue, growing larger and larger, until her death - whenever that may be? A frustrated groan escaped her lips. Sometimes, she regretted her immortality. Sometimes, she regretted her partaking of the Source Blood. However, she knew things wouldn't be the same if she hadn't. Would Ashley have been born? What would've happened to James, John, Nigel, and Nikola? What about her father? Her team? The Sanctuary network? What would've happened to the Abnormals she had searched for and protected? Yes, her immortality was cumbersome at times, however it was useful to others. Still, sleep was a requirement for her furthered health and continued existence. She crossed the room to stand by the large bay window, gazing down at the city below. Flurries of snow drifted down, shrouding the area with a pure white blanket. The wind blew, sending the flakes whirling and twirling in a mad dance, mingling together and drifting apart as the raced to the ground. Bah! Even the weather was conspiring against her, unable to soothe her troubled thoughts. She now understood why Nikola wasn't very fond of the stuff.

_Nikola._ The thought of his name sent memories rushing to the front of her mind, playing out before her sharp eyes.

"_What exactly is the point of this trip, Nikola?" Helen queried, clutching his arm as they strolled down the street. _

"_Well, I was tired of all the snow in England; it's springtime, not winter! Also, Vienna's beautiful at this time of year, as you can see." Indeed, the scenery was magnificent. The trees growing on the sides of the cobbled roads were budding, beautiful blooms bursting forth to greet the sun and the eyes of those who beheld them. The cobblestone streets were littered with blossoms, and the shop owners had planted colourful flowers, their cheery faces turned towards the sun. Horse-drawn carriages meandered down the streets. In the waterways, gondolas floated by serenely, their occupants relaxed in their seats. That, combined with the beautiful architecture of the city was enough to make her want to stay forever._

_Nikola glanced over at her, and grinned smugly at her wide-eyed look. Yes, he had made a very good decision in bringing her here._

"_I must admit, you've done well, Niko." His smile grew wider as she called him by a nickname._

"_Yes, well, I wouldn't want you to freeze in the ice-house you call a country. Spring is when trees shake off their snowy coats and raise their faces to the sun, allowing their leaves to burst forth. They shouldn't stay covered in an icy shroud, hidden from the sun and freezing in the cold!" "Why Nikola," she teased, "I believe you're waxing poetic!" _

"_Nonsense," he scoffed. _

_She laughed at his gruffness, and he soon found himself laughing along with her._

A fond smile had graced her lips at the memory. If only she could go back to that moment, where things had been so peaceful and calm! If only she could return to those days of naïve innocence, where her friends were still with her, and her worries were trivial in comparison. Oh, how she longed to see the budding trees and the blooming flowers! How she wished to be there, in Vienna. Not by herself though; no, that would surely cause her even more grief. No, she wished to go there with _him._ Even on her darkest days, he could find a way to make her laugh, and that was exactly what she needed. Also, though she was grudging to admit it, she felt safe and calm when in his presence.

How could she possibly go, though? She had responsibilities here!

_Hasn't Will been training as a protégée? He is more than capable of handling affairs here._

But Nikola! There was no way he could simply drop everything and accompany her on some random adventure?

_Hasn't he always, though? Back in Oxford, back when Ashley had been taken, when the Network had been threatened. Hadn't he always been there for her, ready to leave at her beck and call? _

Really, though, how selfish of her to drag him from his work!

_Do you really think, after all he's said to you, and all he's done for you, that he would really mind? _

But-

_Oh, shut up! Just send him a note, and explain everything!_

Helen sighed and complied. Thankfully, she had kept the old cryptology machine. After searching for a few minutes, she found it and set it on her nightstand. What could she write? How would she know he would get the message? Finally, she decided on once word: _Vienna? _

She waited with bated breath, unsure why a sudden nervousness had gripped her. However, the old machine began to clank and groan. Soon enough, she had her answer.

_Yes._

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><p><strong>Did you like it? Love it? Hate it? <strong>

**Drop a review and let us know! (: **


	13. Muse

**Hallo all! I've missed you all! D: I'm afraid my updates won't be as frequent for a little while; I'm working with limited computer access, unfortunately. However, I shall try to post whenever possible.**

**Also, as a shameless promo, I'll be posting a few new fics soon, one including an old German myth, and another including one of our favourite Time Lords! **

**-shameless promo over-**

**Here's a little Christmas fluff for you all (yes, I said Christmas. No, I'm not trying to be offensive to anyone. I know some people celebrate Kwanza/Hanukkah/other, and I know that the politically correct term is "holidays". However, I am a Christian, and though I respect others beliefs, I expect them to respect mine. If I've offended you, please forgive me, but religious persecution should have died out long ago. )**

**-rant over-**

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><p>"<em>Controlling my feelings far too long." - Showbiz, Muse<em>

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><p>"Helen, just one kiss; it's requisite, after all." Nikola wheedled, jerking his thumb up towards the mistletoe which hung above their heads.<p>

"I-"

"Please?" He whispered, his eyes taking on a pitiful pleading look, his tone desperate.

What could she say? What could she _do? _It would be daft of her to say she didn't care for him; of course she did! After all, he was her oldest - and probably dearest- friend. And, a long time ago, she thought it could be more. Wanted it to be more. Prayed for it to be more. Yet he never acted, and John successfully wooed her.

She couldn't pretend not to notice how he succumbed to alcohol's sweet seduction; before she announced her engagement to John, it was a rare occasion to see him drink, afterwards, a rare occasion to see him without a glass - or, most times, a bottle - of wine in hand. She also couldn't pretend not to notice his lingering touches, his furtive glances. It would be an outright lie to say she didn't return those after John revealed himself as the Ripper and she had frozen the embryo. It wouldn't be very truthful to say she had waited that long.

However, after John's shocking exposure, he still didn't act. Granted, they were closer than before - and had remained so, even now - yet, he never asked to take her out on a date, or court her. Eventually, she grew tired of waiting, and decided to make the first move; by locking her feelings away, controlling them, moulding them into something that fit the confines of a very close friendship. Now, with a kiss from him imminent, she wasn't certain what she would do.

One on hand, she could kiss him - and risk those long-suppressed feelings bursting free in one embarrassing moment. How would he react to _that_? He had proclaimed his love for her in Rome, yes, but did those feelings remain? Would he be in it for the long haul, and not just a quick shag?

On the other hand, she could reject him and walk away, possibly damaging their friendship - and his heart. Would she be willing to risk their relationship like that? Then again, wouldn't she be risking their relationship by kissing him?

She sighed."Nikola, I- "

"Helen, please. Just this once - I'll never ask you for a kiss again." Either he was confident that he wouldn't have to ask - implying a more romantic relationship - or he was really that selfless.

She was placing her bets on the first one.

Despite her better judgement, she quickly leaned up and pressed her lips against his. Though she had intended the kiss to be chaste, it turned out to be anything but.

The moment their lips met, Helen's heart soared to somewhere in her throat, whilst her stomach dropped to somewhere around her knees. His fingers threaded in her hair, keeping her mouth on his as he thoroughly kissed her. In turn, her arms snaked around his neck, stretching up on her tippy-toes so he wouldn't have to lean down so far. His tongue swept across her bottom lip, begging entrance, which she granted him quickly. A low moan escaped her throat as his tongue explored her mouth, feeling her, learning her, tasting her. For a moment, she was too caught up in her heady bliss to react, but when she did, it was quite powerful. Her tongue pressed into his mouth, exploring him, the taste of wine strong.

He began to pull away, however, she nipped his bottom lip playfully, earning her a growl that sent heat coursing through her veins. Was it possible for someone to sound so…_sexy? _

Apparently so.

She kissed him with a new fervour, pressing herself against him until she could feel every inch of his lean, wiry body against hers. She was perfectly content to stay like that, locked in his embrace. However, the need to breathe soon made itself apparent, and she was forced to pull back.

"Niko," she gasped, staring up at him.

"I love you, Helen." He murmured, sincerity not only in his words, but shining in his eyes as well.

"I love you too, Nikola." She returned, a shaking smile on her lips.

His answering grin was brilliant. He leaned down to place another kiss on her swollen lips, then pulled away.

"Shall I get you to bed then, Miss Magnus?" He whispered seductively.

"I think I'd kill you if you didn't."

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><p><em><em>**Reviews are like LoveActuallyFan's Teslen smut. :D **


	14. Ange de la Musique

**Again, I'm recycling. Really, you all should put a stop to this! But make an exception this time, since I'm sick, and whatever I write will inevitably be crap. **

**Yes, I know this isn't **_**really**_** a song inspired fic, but I assure you, it is inspired by a musical that was inspired by a book by Gaston Leroux! So…yeah…**

**-awkward silence-**

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><p>Long, thin fingers extend towards ivory keys. A hammer strikes a string, and the noise reverberates through the cavernous room. The hands draw back, but soon return, settling over the keyboard. Elegant fingers depress the keys, dancing across them, the notes singing as grey eyes close.<p>

Harmonies and melodies echo through the room, the sounds rising and falling, mimicking the pianist's breathing as he pours his heart into his composition. So enthralled in his music is he, he fails to notice a female entering the room. A hand on his shoulder alerts him to her presence, but he makes her wait by his side until he finishes his improvised piece and the last notes fade into the ether.

"What do you call it?" The woman whispered, blue eyes wide as the observed the man before her.

"Ljubav," the Serbian replied softly.

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><p><strong>Review and make me feel better? <strong>


	15. Rednex

**Erm, well I don't really have a plot for this, but one line in particular just struck me as something that Nikola would say, and I had to put it a fic or I'd go crazy. It'll probably end up in "****Jagd Erlkönig", but I just had to publish this little nonsensical bit. I swear, it'll make sense when I publish "Jagd Erlkönig"! **

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><p>"<em>Where did you come from, where did you go?" - Cotton-Eyed Joe, Rednex<em>

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><p>"Germany…Aren't you from somewhere near there, Tesla?" Will queried, casting a curious glance in the ex-Vampire's direction.<p>

"If you must know, _Dr. Expendable_, I'm from Croatia, which is nowhere near Germany." Nikola's tone was anything but civil, causing Will's eyebrows to shoot up. "And where are you from, Huggybear; the Island of Misfit Boy-Toys?"

Will's cheeks were coloured deep red as he blushed. From beside him, Henry and Kate roared with laughter.

"Dude," Henry forced out between bouts of mirth, "you just got owned!"

"By _Vlad,"_ Kate added with a grin.

"Henry! Kate! Please, control yourselves. Nikola, stop acting like a child." Helen supposed her words would've been more affective if they weren't spoken with a rather large grin.

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><p><strong>Since I was initially sort of confused about Tesla's birthplace, I Googled it, and it turns out he was born in Smiljan, Lika, Croatia. So, I decided to put "Croatia" in here, instead of Serbia. xD <strong>

**Well, that was a bit shit, wasn't it? Mucus does odd things to ones brain…**

**Review, and make my sniffles go away? **


	16. From Autumn to Ashes

**It's bloody cold.**

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><p><em>"Oh, why can't I be what you need?" - Autumn's Monologue, From Autumn to Ashes<em>

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><p><em>Helen Druitt.<em> The name haunted him, forever seared in his memory as so many other painful things seemed to be. Not Helen Magnus. Not Helen Tesla. Not even Helen bloody _Watson_. It had to be Helen Druitt. It couldn't have been him; oh no, it could never have been him. After all, if it had been him, her hatred would probably have driven her to suicide long before she was fully healed. No, it seemed Nikola Tesla wasn't good enough for her; not even in a screwed up dream world.

He wouldn't give up, though. He would keep trying. He would try to stave off his addiction, and prevent himself from thoroughly pillaging her cellars for the expensive wines he knew she was hiding. He would dampen down the sexual innuendo. He would spend more time with her, though only as a friend, not as a pushy Serb who wished to court her. He would try to salvage the friendship they had back when they were both young and attending Oxford. He would go back to the times before John Druitt and James Watson and Nigel Griffin and every other person that had interfered with them. He would go back to that mindset, and he would gently woo her. He would try to be better than he was and hope and pray that it was enough.

In the back of his mind, however, a deep, twisted, self-loathing part of himself kept whispering that it would never be enough; Nikola Tesla was never, nor would ever be good enough for Helen Magnus.

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><p><strong>-insert something cheerful that makes you want to review, even though it's bloody cold-<strong>


	17. ALW II

**Hullo, all! Happy New Year! I'm very, very sorry I've been gone for so long, but quite a few things have come up, including my laptop's inner screen being busted. . Currently, I'm using one at an "internet cafe", so this update will probably be pretty awful.**

**A few things I have to say:**

**1. I'm certain the season finale was amazing, but I'm not completely sure, as my mind is still consumed with THE KISS. :D **

**2. LoveActuallyFan, though I haven't reviewed your works recently, I want to let you know that I've read them all, and they are all incredibly, masterfully done, and absolutely brilliant! You've made me laugh, cry, scream, and take very cold showers. You're amazing, dear. :3 **

**Now, without further preamble; the awful update. Note: It's not exactly explicit enough for an M, but if you're extremely pure-minded, go back now. Seriously. **

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><p><em>In my mind I've already imagined our bodies entwining; defenseless and silent. - The Point of No Return, Andrew Lloyd Weber<em>

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><p>Their first time could never have been gentle; oh no, it couldn't hold all the tenderness that the normal first joining of a couple would. No, they had both waited too long for anything like that.<p>

The two forms flew together in an almost violent kiss, a brutal mashing of lips and teeth, each fighting for the dominance that neither was willing to surrender. Their mouths waged a passionate war for several moments, until finally, he had the good sense to realize they were both wearing far too many layers of clothing.

With a flick of his slender wrist, his elongated nails had sliced through her deliciously tempting black dress, causing it to slide down her body in the most sensual manner. She shivered as the cool air met her newly-exposed skin, causing gooseflesh to appear. He moaned low in appreciation before proceeding to remove her undergarments, leaving her deliciously bare to him.

His mouth flew back to hers, an air of desperation in the way he now kissed her, held her. He knew he should take this moment - perhaps the only one he would ever get - to properly explore her, caress her, bring her the most pleasure he possibly could. However, this was unfeasible to his genius mind at the moment. He wanted her, needed her surrounding him in the most intimate of ways; surely, he would burst if that didn't occur as soon as in-humanly possible! Yes, he would wait until later, when his hands had stopped trembling, to explore her thoroughly.

She had caught up to him, now, and was quickly divesting him of his tailored clothing. Even her nimble fingers couldn't undo his buttons quickly enough, for she mutters something that oddly sounded like "to bloody hell with it", before ripping it from his thin frame. He didn't bemoan the loss - he found himself moaning other things, mainly a mantra of Serbian profanities, intermingled with her beautiful name.

Within moments they were on the bed, sweat-slicked bodies moving together in a dance as old as Time itself. Their sweet sights and breathy moans rose to greet the night are as they clung to each other, desperately holding on, putting off the inevitable. Then, in a blissful moment, their worlds exploded in bursts of light, the very threads of their lives unfurling, then twining back together, this time with one another, interlocking and weaving as their owners had done moments before.

Behind his eyes, everything was a swirl of colours; blues, reds, greens, browns, blacks, and yellow. Oh, most definately yellow - a sort of pastel, actually. Strange, how it was getting brighter, and brighter, and...

Nikola Tesla awoke with a start, his pupils blown wide and his mouth agape, a light sheen of sweat covering his pale brow. No, no, no! It couldn't have been! It wasn't, was it?

It was just a dream.

With a weary sigh he slung his legs over the side of the bed and stood, roughly running his face over his hands before striding off towards the bathroom for a bone-chilling shower.

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><p><strong>It was awful, I know. *sigh* <strong> **Review and make it better? -hopeful smile-**


	18. Rammstein

** Once again I find myself at an internet cafe, and once again I find myself missing my computer. :(  
>Again, I apologize for my lack of frequent updates, but I assure you, as soon as my computer is fixed, that problem will be too. To all of you who still like to read my crappy updates, thank you so much! ^_^<strong>

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><p><em>"Don't die before I do" - Stirb Nicht Vor Mir, Rammstein<em>

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><p>"I had to watch you die, Helen." Nikola crushed her against his chest, burying his nose in her hair and breathing in her scent.<p>

"I'm sorry, Nikola," she whispered, wrapping her arms around his wiry frame.

"Promise me something, ljubav?"

"That depends on what it is."

"Please, Helen, don't die before I do."

She could do nothing but hold him closer.

* * *

><p><strong>That was probably my worst update ever. Damn you, muses, for taking flight. D: <strong>

**Review and tell me how awful I am? **


End file.
